


His Chest

by greenbloodedcomputer



Series: His Body [4]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Chest, Chest Hair, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 18:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6090382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenbloodedcomputer/pseuds/greenbloodedcomputer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Leonard thinks he's a marble statue -- like the ones carved by the ancient Greeks -- because he is the closest thing in their vision to God.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Chest

**Author's Note:**

> This is my series from Leonard's perspective. I have another series of similar stories [from Spock's perspective](http://archiveofourown.org/series/414113). Comments, questions, and requests are always loved!

The first time Leonard saw Spock shirtless was during the first two weeks of the five year mission. A mandatory physical had him face to face with the first officer stripped down to his Starfleet undies. Leonard wasn’t phased by it at the time, but he had noted some things -- he was very muscular, somewhat hairy, and rather thin. Throughout the examination, he had poked, prodded, scanned, and noted every detail about Spock. After all, not much had been known about Vulcan physiology at that point. The doctor had wanted to know everything. 

One thing in particular that he noticed was Spock’s chest. At first glance, it was nearly identical to a human’s chest. He noted that it rose and fell with such gentleness that it was almost as if Spock wasn’t breathing at all, as if he were nearly carved out of marble. Vulcans were used to thinner air, so when Spock did breath it was deep and thorough and much slower than Leonard’s breathing. Like every movement he made it was slow, deliberate, and perfect. A part of the surgeon wondered if Spock was doing it deliberately to appear more perfect than he was, but he quickly learned that was not the case. 

On the bridge, Spock often stood at attention, hands tucked behind his back, with his chest on display. The thin, tight-fitting uniform did nothing to cover the tall man’s form and Leonard may have found himself staring from time to time. When they stood face to face, Leonard’s eyes met Spock’s mouth. They were only a few inches apart in height, but if Leonard allowed his head to fall forward his forehead would mudge against Spock’s chest, just below his clavicle. This was the perfect spot to grumble to himself about how terrible his day had been and most often Spock would allow it to go on for quite a while. 

Sometimes when they slept, Spock would lie on his back and allow his small, human husband to stretch out on top of him like a cat and his his chest as a pillow. Spock would fall asleep first, able to calm and clear his mind using meditation techniques and count his breathing until he was passed out softly in their bed. The doctor would love the subtle feeling of his head rising and falling with Spock’s breathing, like a small wave. Although the vulcan’s heart wasn’t below his ear, he felt it pressed against his body and could hear it reverberating throughout both of them. Like the familiar humming of the ship’s engines, Spock’s sounds became home, and he found that he had trouble sleeping without them. 

When Leonard was feeling rather affectionate, he would undress Spock, tossing his science blues to the side and admiring how tight-fitting his undershirt was. He would run his fingers over his husband’s torso, classifying each muscle and bone silently in his mind and admiring just how statue-like he was. Spock allowed him to do so, never understanding his husband’s fascination with his body, but also never questioning his actions. 

The few times he had been injured on away missions, Spock had been the one to scoop him up and carry him to safety. Even when he was unable to respond, Leonard found comfort in the contact and liked to imagine he was safe in bed. The nights when Leonard found he just couldn’t deal with the responsibility, the trouble, the pain...Spock pulled him close to his chest, holding the human’s head with his long, nimble fingers and resting a careful chin on top of sandy brown hair. Spock was cold even though his uniform shirt and it was like an ice pack relieving the stress and pressure in Leonard’s head that seemed to plague him constantly.


End file.
